NOVEL NEXT CHAPTER 74: Flashback
POV : FLASHBACK : TWO HOURS AGO
Two hours before the demon dog attack, before everything descended into chaos, Ronald had been approached by Clark. At this point, he hadn’t yet bought the glasses. The air was thick with tension, even though most of the camp was still under the illusion of calm.
"Hey, Ronald! Over here!" Clark called out.
"Who’s that? I can’t see you," Ronald responded.
"I’m over here," said Clark quietly as he walked over to Ronald.
"What’s going on?" Ronald asked.
"Oh, just trying to figure out this whole portal thing."
"Didn’t you also go through it before, like Atlas?"
"Yes, but it seemed like a dream, and big chunks of it are just flashbacks in my head, like PTSD," said Clark.
"Oh, that sucks," said Ronald, squinting. Not having glasses or contacts was very annoying.
"It’s not too bad," said Clark. ‘I can’t reveal the fact that I actually am pretty clear about everything. I wish I had prepared properly like Atlas did, though.‘
"Well, in the show you’re errr… not portrayed that well," Ronald tried to say politely.
"Yeah. That’s because me and Atlas had been fighting over a girl. She had said no to him. And I tried to stop him. He eventually killed her for it," Clark said sadly.
"What? That can’t be!"
"It’s true. The whole TV show was written by Atlas. There’s no way he’ll show you what really happened in the first place."
"But the fairy was real."
"Things like that he couldn’t help showing. But if it was all true, why were the Portal Crushers in the show? You know they’re here for the first time too."
"Ooh, that’s true."
"Yeah, consider the show about 30% true and 70% Atlas making things up to make himself look good," Clark said.
"For example," Clark began as they walked toward the Miscellaneous by Mort machine, "if Atlas hadn’t robbed you, you’d have two coins right now. You’re living on his charity." His tone was smooth, almost casual, as if he were stating an obvious fact.
Ronald, who had been feeling rather grateful toward Atlas, paused in his steps. He was originally feeling happy on his way to the machine, thinking Atlas was a pretty reasonable and good guy. But now, Clark’s words started to sink in.
‘Yeah, it was humiliating to have to beg,‘ he thought. ‘No food, no water, and I had to beg to get one coin. Wasn’t it my own money to begin with?‘
A bitter resentment began to brew. ‘Yeah, fuck that guy. It’s ridiculous. And here I was thinking he was a good guy.‘
Clark noticed Ronald’s change in demeanor and pressed on. "Well, my friend, it’s that TV show that you’re basing your impression of Atlas on, right?"
"Yes," Ronald admitted, his voice tinged with confusion. He loved that show. Watching it was great; living it, not so much.
"Well, you know that Atlas paid, produced, and starred in that. Besides being a super nice and heroic guy, how else would they portray the main financial backer? Do you really think he’s nice in real life? You know what they say—don’t meet your heroes."
Ronald’s face darkened. "Yeah, that guy’s been a real jackass," he said. Ronald remembered how Atlas had been yelling orders and commands as soon as everyone had gotten through the portal.
Clark nodded sympathetically. "Look at them over there," he said, gesturing toward the Portal Crushers, who were lounging around while the newbies labored. "They’re all napping while we’re out here working. Half of us don’t even have food. And who made him the leader? Was there a vote? No, there wasn’t. Democracy should be the cornerstone of freedom. But noooo. He didn’t ask for a vote. He didn’t ask my opinion. And he certainly didn’t ask yours."
"That’s right, I didn’t vote for him," Ronald said, the frustration in his voice growing. "And my vote’s just as important as anybody else’s."
"That’s a great point! You’re right! Look, Ronald," Clark said, leaning in, "every decision Atlas has made so far? It’s all about him. He’s not thinking about us."
"Yeah, but he got us food and water," Ronald replied, still flipping from resentment and defending Atlas.
"Food and water that he got because of those sponsorship deals. That’s not for us, man—that’s for his image. You think he gives a damn about you or me?"
"But the fence—"
"Cheap-ass wooden fence? Please. That’s just so he can say he did something. He didn’t even give us a gate! He’s setting us up to fail so he can swoop in and play hero again."
Ronald frowned. "I didn’t think of it that way."
"That’s the point. He’s using you, man. All of us. Wake up," Clark said, his tone smooth as silk. "Atlas is a fascist. He’s a Nazi, literally. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because you heard what he said earlier. Did you wind up eating today? I have half of my protein bar, if you need something. Who knows, maybe you’ll get sent to fight skeletons tomorrow. No fighting means no food."
"I can’t fight," Ronald said, his voice cracking with fear. "I’ll die."
Clark leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, with the Portal Crushers there to enforce Atlas’s dictatorial law, there’s not much you can do, is there?"
Ronald shook his head, despair washing over him. "No, I guess not."
"Atlas is a monster," Clark continued, his voice filled with venom. "He’s a fascist dictator and a power-drunk thug. If you don’t fight tomorrow, I bet he’s going to shove you in as bait."
"What? He wouldn’t," Ronald protested, but his voice wavered with uncertainty.
"Wouldn’t he?" Clark said, his eyes narrowing. "You can’t trust that show, remember? It was just a TV show, and it’s all from Atlas’s perspective. It’s what we call, in the literary sense, a false narrative—a story from the view of a madman, from his perspective. In fact, from what I remember, that’s one of Atlas’s favorite tactics. Using noobies as bait. There was a guy who couldn’t see like you last time; his ending wasn’t pretty."
Ronald’s thoughts raced, fear and doubt gnawing at his insides. "What can I do?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "I can’t fight, and I don’t want to be bait."
Clark’s expression softened, a thin smile spreading across his face. "Well, tonight, if a distraction occurs, I can get us out of here—into a different settlement where it’s safer."
‘I have to get out of here,‘ Clark thought as he studied Ronald’s fearful face. ‘Atlas is going to kill me after I betrayed him during the last trip to the wasteland. He almost caught me then, but this time, he won’t hesitate. I’m surprised he’s even waited so long already, I bet he’s waiting for a good time, like during the chaos of the demon dog fight, to do the deed.”
"Really?" Ronald’s eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. "How would we get there? Won’t we be attacked by demon dogs at night? I’ve seen the show."
Clark chuckled softly. "No, no. I know a way there. It’ll be safe. Just be ready."
"Okay," Ronald agreed, his mind already spinning with plans.
‘Yeah, Clark was shown as a weasel on the show. But just like he said, Atlas had made the show. Atlas could portray whatever truth he wanted easily.‘
"Oh, one more thing, friend," Clark added, his voice light and casual. "I’ll need that coin that you just got to pay for us to get there. Don’t worry about your glasses. First thing tomorrow, we’ll get you a pair."
Ronald hesitated, suspicion gnawing at him. "Are you sure?" he asked, doubt creeping into his voice.
‘Come on, you idiot, just give me the coin,‘ Clark thought, forcing a smile. "I’m sure," he said aloud, his smile never wavering.
But something in Ronald’s gut told him to be cautious. "No. You know what? To be safe, I’m going to hold on to the coin."
"No problem," Clark replied smoothly, but there was a flash of irritation in his eyes as he turned away. ‘Damn it, this guy is going to make things harder. I need that coin if we’re going to survive.‘
Together, Clark and Ronald steered away from the Miscellaneous By Mort vending machine. Their path took them back to the bone pile.
‘‘‘
Seeing Ronald walking by, Atlas yelled out, "Hey, Ronald, did you get those TruPrescribe contacts?"
"Uh, yeah, I did. Thanks again, Atlas, you’re the best!" Ronald said. He tried not to squint.
***
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